


Pleasurable Wares

by Mistigris108



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Complete, F/F, Light Angst, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistigris108/pseuds/Mistigris108
Summary: I think the first appearance of The Pearl was a lost opportunity. What if the Warden and Leliana just need a little nudge.





	Pleasurable Wares

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out way longer than intended; and I'm so very, very late to the DA:O fandom. I know I still have a WIP for Inquisition, but I couldn't shake this plot bunny so here you go.

“Lady Warden, I can’t thank you and your companions enough .  Those White Falcon mercenaries were driving away all of my customers. I was certain I would have to close within the fortnight.” Sagna’s smile is genuine, if calculating. “I don’t know, however, that I have the means to properly reward your efforts. Here we do not sell arms or armor. But perhaps..” The Proprietress trails off a moment, her eyes scanning the Warden and her friends. “Perhaps we could arrange something more.. Tangible.”    
“My lady?” Gwyn Cousland is tired. Exhausted. Her brain sluggish in the heady aroma and warmth of the brothel.    
“As you are no doubt aware, Grey Warden, my wares lean towards the fleeting and enjoyable. I speak for my company when I say that we- pardon me-  _ they _ are all grateful and more than willing to remunerate your wounds.” Morrigan scoffs gently, her yellow eyes turning to the Warden.    
“Tis flesh, she offers.” Gwyn blanches slightly only to have a blush replace it. 

“I guess that could work? If your people are in agreement as well?” The Warden glances towards Leliana, trying to gauge the Bard’s reaction to such a suggestion. Sagna smiles at the Witch, eyes darting between Gwyn and Morrigan.    
“You’re quite right. As for their willingness,” Sagna turns to Leliana. “Several have expressed the desire to come to such an arrangement. We do not often host such distinguished guests.” Sagna faces the Warden, her hand extended outward.  “I expect that, should you accept the offer, you will find our wares quite  _ pleasurable _ .” Morrigan steps forward, reaching out her hand to Sagna in Gwyn’s stead.

“Then we accept.” The Proprietress beams, pleased at the simplicity of the agreement. “Tis too much to presume that you have  _ men _ here as well?” Morrigan scans the room for what few workers are to be found. “For I only see women.”

“My gentlemen keep to another part of the Pearl, Lady Morrigan. I should be more than happy to bring them out so that you may choose.” Sagna gestures down a hallway, ready to move when Morrigan raises her hand.    
“Tis not needed. So long as this agreement is already known, I will seek out companionship away from prying eyes.” The last of Morrigan’s words carry an edge, the witch throwing a pointed look at Leliana. The bard only just hides a snort. A piercing yellow glare is the last the others see of Morrigan as she disappears down the hall. 

“And you, my Lady, whose company would you prefer?” Sagna takes a few gentle steps towards Leliana, her right hand making a sweeping gesture. 

“Oh! Me? I-”   
“We have much that suits an individual’s needs. You only need say the word.” Gwyn, who had been watching the brief exchange turns suddenly, her eyes focused on the wood flooring, trying desperately to quell a hot stab of jealousy and want. She and Leliana have made no agreements, only shared quiet moments around the campfire. The Warden could not, and would not, begrudge a beautiful woman the pleasure of company. She turns, forcing a smile. 

“We’re off duty tonight!” Gwyn tries for light-heartedness, tossing in a waggling eyebrow for good measure. Sagna takes a slight step back, her clever eyes dancing between the Warden and the redhead.  Leliana’s breathless chuckle breaks the silence.    
“Well, as long as you’re sure?” The Warden gives Leliana an armored thumbs up, nodding her head in the direction of the men and women who were slowly coming into the room. The Bard turns to face them, eyes suddenly dark and appraising. “All of the Maker’s children are beautiful. I do not understand how Morrigan could limit herself so.” Leliana slowly walks down the line, her step predatory, eyes keen and hungry. Stopping in front of a woman just taller than herself. Beth. Her eyes are a deep jade, her hair is light blonde, she’s not overly slim and there is some muscle tone. She is beautiful. Gwyn ignores another small stab as Leliana introduces herself and leans in, a question whispered in the woman’s ear. Beth gasps quietly, eyes wide. Her eyes dance down the line and Leliana follows her gaze. The Bard walks down the remainder of the line, quite literally sizing up the men in front of her. She stops in front of a tall, dark-haired man. Tomas, he calls himself. Leliana smiles beatifically, placing a hand demurely on his chest. Tomas beams. 

“Lucky bastard,” Gwyn mutters to herself. Exhaling hard, she looks over to the bar, contemplating the level of drunkness she wants to achieve that night. 

“I have made my choice, my Lady.” Leliana is holding Tomas’ hand, but has returned to stand in front of Beth. Sagna laughs, short and quiet. 

“May they serve you well.” The Proprietress gestures down the hall. “Second door on the left.” The three turn down the hallway and Gwyn turns away towards the bar, missing the sad, hopeful look the Bard gives her. 

Screwing her eyes shut, she wills the sound of the door closing out of her mind and tries her best not to stomp towards the bar. She sits hard, harder than she meant, on the stool as it creaks in protest. She waves to the young man behind the bar and he places a large cup of wine in front of her. Sagna comes slowly, quietly up to the Warden’s side, her pointer finger grazes thoughtfully over her lips. 

“My Lady Warden,” Gwyn turns to look at her, hoping her eyes don’t betray the hurt and want she’s about to drown. “Will you not be taking company with you this night?” Gwyn laughs, a hollow sound. 

“I uh. Ha. It’s-”   
“I have several beautiful women, all of whom are quite eager to spend the evening with a Grey Warden.” Gwyn opens her mouth in protest, only to be silenced by Sagna. “I daresay they would be just as satisfied with merely pleasant company. We hold no expectations or judgments here.” Gwyn’s eyes drop back to the wine before her, puffing air out of her mouth in one harsh blow. She considers her options and finally submits with a small nod of her head. Sagna smiles, triumphant. “I shall return in a moment, lady Warden.” The Warden nods again, willing herself to drink as much as possible before Sagna returns. Several minutes of quiet whispers and gentle footfalls pass before Sagna approaches the bar once more, four women in tow. Gwyn takes a deep breath, trying to uncover that part of herself she had buried after Cousland Castle had been nearly razed. With her most charming smile, Gwyn turns in her seat, only to falter slightly. The women before her are indeed beautiful, but there’s a startling trend. Three, magically, are redheads, two have a slim build, while the third seems stronger. Gwyn swallows.  _ Am I that transparent? _ Sagna only gives her an encouraging smile. Gwyn adjusts to get a look at the fourth woman and has to hold back a sudden laugh. The last is tall and waif thin, with dark hair and severe features.  _ She can’t think I’m attracted to Morrigan! _ Gwyn can’t help the smile that breaks her face as she appraises the women before her. 

“Maker, you are all so beautiful, I don’t know how to choose.” Two blush demurely, prettily. The one who Gwyn can only guess is meant to look like Morrigan simply nods, as if her observation were entirely obvious. But one, the farthest to the right, has a fire in her eyes- the unmistakable look of a challenge. Gwyn g\smiles wolfishly, unable to resist that kind of temptation. Turning to Sagna, Gwyn nods, extending her hand out towards the woman. She winces internally at the scars and calluses on her hand, remembering how rough and unkempt she must look.

“Lady Warden, allow me to introduce you to-” Sagna moves to put a hand on the woman’s back only to find the redhead already taking confident steps towards the Warden. 

“It is an honor, Lady Warden, I am Circe.” She supplies, standing directly in front of Gwyn. “And it is most certainly my pleasure.” The woman’s eyes glint in the firelight and Gwyn feels the harsh stab of lust low in her belly. The Warden takes Circe’s hand, bringing it to her lips. She allows them to just graze the woman’s knuckles as she stands from the stool, pulling her in closer.    
“It is my sincere hope that it will be,” Gwyn husks quietly, unable to stop the hunger over-taking her face. 

“Circe, if you would like to show our guest to a room?” Sagna supplies, already shooing away the others and eyeing the door where more people have come in. 

“Of course,” Circe wraps her hand tightly around the Warden’s and pulls her gently across the room and down the hall. Gwyn has to force herself to continue past the second door, ears straining for sounds from within. But Circe guides her further still down the hall, into the final room on the right. Neither had seen the door behind them open and a pair of bright blue eyes follow their progress. 

 

Gwyn allows herself to be led into the room, taking only a moment to appraise the decorations and send a silent thanks to the Maker that the room was warm. She missed little about her former life, but found that she did miss the constant fires that blazed in the hearths and fireplaces. She turns towards Circe, finally taking in the other woman’s full appearance. Her skin was light and looked soft. Gwyn couldn’t help but linger on the woman’s hips, imagining how it would feel to dig her fingers into the soft flesh there. Jaw clenching, the Warden drags her eyes upwards over the soft plane of her stomach to the swell of her breasts, beyond her collar bones and onto the expanse of her neck. Hot need sprang out of nowhere, causing the Warden to stifle a gasp. Taking several hazy steps forward she is stopped by a pale hand on her chest. 

“My Lady Warden, though I am as eager as I hope you are, I cannot imagine that armor would be terribly comfortable?” Circe asks gently, although her hands speak for themselves as they slide eagerly into the gaps between her breastplate and pauldrons. The woman’s fingers work quickly to release the ties and bindings underneath. Gwyn shakes herself and takes a small step back. 

“Forgive me. It has been..” She sighs. “Some time since I have had another remove my armor. I’m afraid I am far less appealing underneath it all.” Sweeping her hand in front of herself Gwyn gives an awkward laugh. 

“My Lady,” Circe steps forward, once more into the Warden’s personal space, hands resuming their work. “I am confident that you are just as striking out of your armor as you are in it.” Pressing herself against Gwyn’s breastplate Circe ghosts her lips over the Warden’s ear. “And I am quite eager to see such a hero as you up close and personal.” Gwyn shivers, working hard to master the urge to simply lift the woman off of her feet and onto the bed. Reaching behind herself Gwyn quickly pulls the twin daggers from their sheaths, placing them on the wide mantle over the fire. Circe’s hands glide down the rogue’s sides, making quick work of the clasps that hold the bulk of her amor together. Gwyn can’t help but admire the proficiency as Circe carefully lifts away the chest and backplate, draping them reverently over a chair. The Warden slides off her gauntlets and pauldrons, letting them fall onto the seat of the chair. It’s only when she stands, eyes casting down her own, still-clothed body, that she winces. There are deep scars and countless, red and pink wounds hidden beneath this last weak layer- all closed, but not fully healed. Gwyn stands there suddenly weary in her cotton pants and shirt.

“Truly,” Gwyn sighs. “I apologize. I don’t think I can awe you in the same way you have awed me.” She shirks out of her boots and moves to pull down the dark blue cotton pants, only to stop abruptly. “I have scars that are unpleasant to see, and I understand completely if you are no longer-” But Gwyn’s words fade as her gaze goes back to Circe. The woman is standing directly at the foot of the bed, unlacing the ties at the front of her gown.  Her eyes are blown and her breathing is more labored than before. Gwyn meets that heated stare, and watches, waits, as the gown slips down her shoulders, is pulled gently past already attentive nipples and pools at Circe’s feet. The smallclothes at her waist seem only like a comedic afterthought, as they were indeed quite small. 

“Lady Warden.” The depth in Circe’s voice drags Gwyn out of her staring. “Your scars are only badges of your heroism. If I were to find them ugly, I should be both incredibly ungrateful, as well as unpatriotic. Grey Wardens sacrifice much. Allow me to give you something back.” Circe holds out her hand, baiting Gwyn to move in. 

A moment passes. Then another. She raises an eyebrow at Gwyn. Another challenge, another call to arms. The Warden advances fast, right hand gripping Circe’s extended one, pulling her in hard. Gwyn’s cottons, and thus her binding and smallclothes, are still on but it fazes neither. Circe throws her arms around Gwyn’s neck, pushing in for a heated kiss and nipping at the Warden’s bottom lip, trying to coax her mouth open. 

The sudden contact makes Gwyn’s eyes roll back, not realizing until that moment how much she had missed physical contact. Her family knew, of course, about the lovers she took to her bed. The arls’ daughters and their own household servants, all frequent and willing guests in Gwyn’s bed. But it had been so long. And so much had happened. She understood now how much she needed this. She needed it and refused to dwell on who she was and was not about to bed.  Releasing Circe’s hand the Warden drags her nails down the woman’s back, reveling in the hissing moan escaping between Circe’s lips. Nipping the woman’s lips, Gwyn drags her hands lower to the curve of Circe’s ass, nails digging into the flesh there, soaking in the small gasp that escaped from her companion’s lips. Gwyn opens her mouth to deepen the kiss and Circe mirrors it- an invitation to push further. So she does, pushing her tongue deep into the woman’s mouth, Gwyn allows herself to get lost in the taste of another person again. The heat and desire radiating off of Circe is headier than the wine she had drunk and the Warden groans deep in her chest. She pulls back, biting down on the woman’s lip, drawing small moans from her. Gwyn allows herself a moment to bask in the sensation of the body pressing against hers, drawing out the delicious indecision of how to proceed. The urgent rolling of her companion’s hips bring the Warden back to the moment, making the decision for her. Gwyn gives a final, sharp bite to Circe’s bottom lip before trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck, her hands dragging back up the glorious arc of her backside. Circe chuckles, breathless and dark as Gwyn bends low, lips and teeth seeking out an already straining nipple, her hands tangling in the Warden’s hair, pulling her in further. Gwyn smiles around the flesh in her mouth, letting the gasps and groans falling from Circe’s lips push her on. Her right hand trails over the curve of Circe’s hip, fingers dancing over bone and soft flesh, dipping low and sudden into the smallclothes Circe still wears. Gwyn moans as her fingers meet hot, thick arousal, pushing further down. Circe gasps above her, the grazing fingers over her sex too light to be enough, but sudden and demanding. 

“Maker,” she groans, hips straining into Gwyn’s hand, a silent plea for more. The Warden’s eyes, heavy and unfocused, slip shut at the abundant wetness she finds, her own arousal robbing her of all patience or decorum. Pulling her hand out, she silences a protest from above, hands meeting to pull down the offending clothing still in her way. A small yelp, barely heard, tells Gwyn she may have torn the smallclothes, but the Warden can’t bring herself to care. Sinking to her knees, Gwyn comes nearly level with her goal, eyes darting low to take in the glistening arousal coating Circe’s thighs. The stab of raw need that pierces the rogue’s chest is impossible to put off any longer and Gwyn wraps her arms tightly around the woman’s thighs, lifting her off the ground and onto the bed. A deep growl rolls through the Warden’s chest as she drops back to her knees, hands grabbing hard at her companion’s legs and pulling her to the edge of the bed, knees draping over broad, hunched shoulders. Circe opens her legs wider, eyes trained on the hooded, dark expression on the Warden’s face. She can barely contain the trembling of her legs and stomach as she wills the woman to continue- her sex aching with the taunting proximity of her mouth. 

~

Closing the door behind her, Circe tries discreetly to shake out her right leg. The Warden had been unrelenting in bringing her to climax over and over. It was only when she had pushed on the woman’s head, almost pleading that her companion released her. The slickness that coated her thighs and sex only told her she would be ready again soon- and perhaps the Warden would allow her to return the pleasure. Nipping at her lip, she begins the short walk to the bar, her robe loose and practically open. She catches the eye of the bartender as she approaches. “Some wine please, for my Warden.” Circe pulls her roble closed, free hand seeking out the other end of a tie.    
“Everything okay?” The young man behind the bar begins filling two large goblets, the question lingering in his eyes. “D’you need help?” Circe smiles, placing a warm hand on his wrist, her modesty- what of it she cares for- preserved.    
“I am fine, Marren. My Warden only seems to be having some trouble.. Her mind has... wandered from herself.” 

“Are you talking about Warden Cousland?” Leliana asks from a few feet behind, having emerged fully dressed from her room. “Is she okay?” Circe bites her lip to stifle a groan- her mind racing back to the feeling of the Warden’s fingers working inside her- pleasure pulsing hard between her legs. 

“She is magnificent,” Circe husks. Turning, she eyes the Bard carefully. “But she had a moment where… it seemed like she was somewhere else. Tense. I thought some wine might help calm her mind. I hoped that once her mind was calm I could-”

“Warden Cousland has been having nightmares for months. She-”

“It was not a nightmare,  _ Sister _ Leliana. She was perfectly awake and engaged.” The emphasis on the word ‘sister’ wasn’t lost on the bard, whose eyes narrowed at the woman. 

_ How dare she presume to know anything about the Warden. _   
“I think it best I look in on her.” 

“I don’t think it’s necessary Sister, I think she was simply swept up in the moment.” Circe offers her most innocuous smile, though it is anything but. Leliana glares at her, daring the woman to continue. 

“I’m going to go look in on her. If she’s okay and seems herself, you may..” The Bard swallows thickly, jealousy hot and raging in her veins. “Proceed.” Leliana turns on her heel and heads quickly towards the room. Circe snorts and makes to follow but is stopped by a hand on her bicep. Sagna.

“Let her go, Circe.” The proprietress’ eyes are somehow both stern and gentle. “The Wardens suffer much we cannot understand.”   
“But I- We..”   
“I know, my dear. But we must be grateful for what the Maker gives us, not petulant when it is taken away.” 

~

Leliana stops in front of the door, ears working hard to capture any sound from within. It only takes a moment, but it’s there- heavy breathing. Hard breathing. Like after a battle. Turning the handle slowly, Leliana tilts her head to get a view of the room as the door opens a few inches. She is confronted with the unmistakable, thick smell of sex and her stomach burns and twists into knots. Steeling herself, the Bard pushes the door open and walks into the room fully, eyes falling on the chair covered in Gwyn’s armor, the sheets pulled and twisted on the bed. Another searing stab, this time lower, and Leliana wills away the unwanted spike of arousal. But the bard isn’t quick enough, doesn’t see or hear the Warden who had been leaning on the mantle, eyes wild and far, hands gripping the daggers so tightly her knuckles creaked and groaned. She only sees Gwyn over the blade of the dagger held at her throat, the tip a hair’s breadth away from her skin. 

“Gwyn?” Leliana gasps, eyes wide and fearful as she takes in the sight of her friend. The Warden’s eyes are glassy and far away, her chest heaving under the blue cottons. The Bard both hates and is thankful for the relief that floods her body, seeing her friend still dressed and relatively composed. Leliana tries again, clearing her throat. “Gwyn. It’s me. Leliana. What’s wrong?” She reaches a hand out, hoping to take hold of the rogue’s hand. But the move is interrupted by the sensation of another dagger pressed to her side below her ribs. 

“Don’t. Move.” Gwyn growls. “How many are there?”   
“What? Gwyn why-?”   
“How many of you did Howe send?!” The question is practically roared at her and Leliana feels fear spike through her. “You’ve killed her, haven’t you?” The dagger at her throat pushes in slightly, the tip nearly breaking skin. Leliana can’t tamp down the fear and panic, trying desperately to remember the night at camp when Gwyn had confided in her about the events at Castle Cousland. She knows the death of Gwyn’s family weighs heavily on her. The death of another woman, perhaps a lover, also an unimaginable burden. Leliana takes a deep breath and slowly, achingly so, reaches her hand out once more, ghosting it over the straining hand on the dagger grip.    
“It’s me,” she says slowly. “Leliana.” A flicker in the Warden’s eyes. “You are safe here. Far away from Howe’s men.” The bard rests her hand gently over Gwyn’s, a small squeeze and the slightest push on the hand. The dagger lowers an inch, and then another. The dagger pointed to her side clatters to the floor as the Warden’s left arm falls limp at her side. Leliana coos. “That’s it, Gwyn. Come back to me. You’re safe and we’re here.” Leliana hesitates a moment before adding, “Together.” Gwyn’s eyes droop shut as her head rolls back. The bard doesn’t waste a second and slides the dagger out of her friend’s now slack hand. Bending slowly, Leliana takes the second dagger from the floor and replaces both on a small table a foot away. She steps forward, hands cupping the side of Gwyn’s face. “Look at me, please.” The Warden’s eyes open, hazy with pain and confusion and fear. Leliana bites her lip, uncertain if her next move will help or hurt, but she continues. She leans in slow, eyes never leaving the Warden’s face, and is a breath away from pressing her lips to Gwyn’s when the woman sags in her arms. Had Leliana been prepared, she could have caught her, eased the fall, but she wasn’t. Gwyn’s knees connect hard on the wooden floor as she drops, head hanging down, each gasping breath sounding like it had been ripped from the woman’s chest. 

Leliana’s heart aches as she kneels down in front of her friend, craning her head low to be within eyesight, her hand gentle under the woman’s chin as she lifts Gwyn’s face. The Warden’s eyes are bright with unshed tears as she inhales, shuddering. 

“Did.. Did I hurt her?” Leliana grimaces slightly, her thoughts traveling unwanted to images of Gwyn buried inside the other woman. 

“You… Did not.” She manages. “She did seem to be walking a little off, but seemed no worse for the wear.” Gwyn deflates with relief, only to bolt upright a moment later. 

“She left and- and all I could hear was a scream. Fighting. Yelling.” Gwyn screws her eyes shut, jaw tight and working hard. “Howe’s men.” She breathes out. Leliana strokes the Warden’s cheek with the back of her hand, gentle shushing sounds wrap around the rogue.    
“Howe’s men are not here. We are safe. Everyone is safe.” Raising her hand, Gwyn covers the pale hand still stroking her cheek, searching the woman’s eyes for truth and reassurance.  Leaning in to the contact, Gwyn allows herself a few long moments to come down, the fear finally receding back to the dark part of her mind.    
“Thank you,” she breathes. “I am sorry if I took you from your,” a hard swallow. “Companions.” 

“You did not, I assure you. I was out getting a drink when your own emerged.”   
“Ah,” Gwyn deflates, feeling suddenly ashamed. “And, h-how was your… company?”  Leliana laughs, it’s short and warm and Gwyn hates it.    
“Satisfactory,” She smiles.    
“Then you,” a small pause and a hot wave of want and jealousy. “Enjoyed yourself?” The Bard’s eyes are impish. 

“Quite. Though neither were exactly my type, I did enjoy the watching.” Leliana’s eyes sparkle as the understanding washes over Gwyn. She will never admit to a soul that she had chosen the woman based on the qualities she shared with the Warden in front of her.  _ But then again _ , she muses,  _ Gwyn’s companion shares a great many qualities with me… Perhaps…  _ “And you? Did you enjoy yourself?” Leliana can’t help but ask, though the asking caused no small hurt either. Gwyn bows her head, looking at the floor instead of her friend’s eyes.    
“It was a release,” she says blankly. Leliana leans back, her voice suddenly cool.    
“Oh. I did not realize you had dressed so quickly.” The bard moves to stand, only to find her hand still contained in Gwyn’s. 

“I didn’t.” The Warden’s eyes are darkened with something Leliana hadn’t seen before. “I would not wish anyone to have to see the scars I bear. Maker knows I can barely stand the sight of them myself, let alone ask another to look at  _ and _ touch them. I am tainted.” Gwyn spits the last word like a curse. A condemnation of herself, and the lost life before it.    
“Tainted?” Leliana’s Orlesian accent colors the word, making it somehow prettier and uglier simultaneously. “You believe you are tainted? By your scars? By-”   
“By the blood that courses through me,” Gwyn grinds out. “I dream of monsters and demons, I wake to the sounds of battle every night. I cannot.. I do not wish for anyone to have to....” Gwyn drops Leliana’s hand and falls to her own. Her chest heaving with self-disgust. “Yes. It was a release because I cannot have who I-.. What I want any longer.” Quiet minutes pass as Leliana considers her friend’s words, her choice of companions, their nightly talks. She was not a naive girl, she saw the way the Warden looked at her; woke often to find Gwyn standing guard so, so close. The thrill of that knowledge, it’s sudden amalgamation, electrifies her.  _ She wants me _ . The bard allows herself a brief moment to preen before pressing forward, a wicked smile back on her face.    
“So let me understand,” She offers up. “You deny yourself the things, the  _ person _ you want because you are a Warden?” Gwyn opens her mouth to answer, but is stopped. “And yet, when permitted, you seek the company of a woman with particular attributes?” The Warden nods, silent. “Is it a coincidence then, Warden Cousland, that your choice of company bears some similarities to me?” Leliana cannot help the grin that breaks across her face as Gwyn rears back, eyes wide under the scrutiny of her questions. The bard leans in, her fingertips resting on Gwyn’s collarbone. “And do not lie,  _ ma chere _ , because I will know.” Gwyn shudders at the Orlesian term, knowing she’s been caught, knowing that even if she doesn’t answer, Leliana knows.    
“It… is no coincidence.” The Warden deflates, waiting for Leliana’s response. The seconds stretch on, and were it not for the piercing eyes still on her face, Gwyn would have been certain the bard had left the room. Looking up, Gwyn comes face to face with Leliana- the woman’s eyes blown and fierce. Gwyn inhales to say something, but Leliana is faster, lunging forward and crushing her lips against her Warden’s. The bard can taste this other woman, this  _ imposter _ , on Gwyn’s lips and vows in that moment that she will only ever taste herself from here on out. Leliana’s left hand comes to rest on the rogue’s chest, fingertips lingering on the muscle between Gwyn’s shoulder and neck. Whatever shock had rendered the Warden immobile wears off with the sensation of the hot fingers on her clothing and skin. She reaches out a trembling hand, awestruck and needy, only to have it slapped away. 

The cheshire grin on Leliana’s face is all the warning Gwyn receives before being hauled to her feet and pushed unceremoniously onto the bed. Startled and dazed, Gwyn can only watch as Leliana stands at the foot of the bed hastily pulling off her comparatively light armor, and tossing it behind her.The Warden’s mouth goes dry as hot arousal jolts between her legs, instantly soaking her small clothes. A shuddering breath passes between them both as Leliana watches her Warden’s eyes, daring her to look away as she strips out of her smallclothes and stands before her gloriously naked. Something like a mix of a whimper and a groan pushes past Gywn’s lips as her eyes devour the sight before her, nostrils flaring and her mouth open, like she’s trying to taste the air. The crash of dark red curls between Leliana’s legs holds her attention as her breathing deepens and slows, the Warden’s mind foggy from the pure need making its way from the top of her head to her toes. Leliana is utterly pleased, thrilled even, at the open hunger in her companion’s eyes, and basks in the unabashed attention. The Orlesian places her hand just under her chin, fingers curling over to touch her lips, eyes locked on her soon-to-be lover. She smiles, slow and seductive, as her hand makes achingly slow, intentional progress down her throat, brushing her collarbones, pausing to pinch a dark pink nipple- and rewarding her Warden’s attention with a gasp of arousal-, and down, over her stomach and into the mess of curls between her legs. 

“Do you want me, Lady Warden?” Leliana demands. Her tone leaves no room for any answer but Gwyn’s whimpered  _ yes _ . The bard smiles, menacing, demanding, and she moves all too slowly for Gwyn’s liking. She climbs onto the bed on hands and knees, all grace and focus, moving up the Warden’s body- her fingers leaving trails of fire where they touch. Gwyn sits up, all discomfort forgotten as she moves to tear off her cotton shirt and release the binding on her chest. But she’s stopped again, the now familiar feeling of the bard’s palm on her chest. Gwyn looks at her, confused, searching for a reason. “I want to do it,” she says. Gwyn can smell the woman’s arousal on her fingers and her mouth waters. If she could just… She opens her mouth, tongue seeking the tips of Leliana’s fingers. “My, my,” the Bard teases her. “Someone is eager.” Gwyn looks up, eyes narrowing. She knows there’s a catch, some caveat. Leliana sits up on her heels and grips the hem of the Warden’s shirt, dragging it up and off her torso before Gwyn could even think to protest. There’s a spark in the Bard’s eyes. “It’s such a shame that your armor is so unforgiving to your  _ attributes _ . The binding can’t be comfortable.” Gwyn shrugs gently- a necessary evil. “Nevertheless,” she continues. “I am eager to see you.” Leliana’s hands ghost down the Warden’s chest, fingers seeking the tucked edge of the cloth binding her chest. The smile on Leliana’s face means success and it’s only a moment before Gwyn feels the release of pressure from her ribs. She’s worn binding under her armor for as long as she can remember, but she never tires of the sensation of freedom that comes with removing it. The bard instantly palms her breasts, fingers digging in slightly as she revels in the softness and give. Gwyn groans as the redhead settles low on her stomach, the thatch of hair between the bard’s legs tickling and rubbing against the Warden’s skin. Gwyn’s hands roam to Leliana’s thighs, slow and reverent as they near their goal. The hands on her chest disappear and the Warden whines at the loss before seeing the heated stare Leliana has trained on her. Pushing Gwyn’s hands away, Leliana tuts quietly. “You must learn to enjoy the game, Warden Cousland.” Scooting forward Leliana positions herself just below Gwyn’s ribs, her blue eyes dancing with mischief. 

“Leliana,” Gwyn whispers, desperately. “I-” The bard puts a finger to her lips, silencing her.    
“Enjoy it, Warden. Because I will.” Leliana drops her weight, her molten core pressing into Gwyn’s stomach. Leliana drops her head back, sighing- the sudden release of pressure is blissful. She wills herself to stop thinking, to just move with the woman below her, whose hips are already rocking. The rough hands at her hips bring Leliana back to the moment and ready to scold Gwyn were it not for the push and pull of her hands. The motion forces Leliana’s core to drag over the muscled plane of the Warden’s stomach, coating it in the arousal dripping from her. A dark smile curls on her lips as her left hand comes to rest on Gwyn’s chest. Leliana rocks her hips harder, grinding herself on her lover. Head dropping, Leliana closes her eyes and gets lost in the pleasure spiking though her. Gone are any thoughts of other women, of her own previous lovers- Gwyn’s hands keep her grounded ever as her hips begin to move on their own and her pleasure blossoms. A low moan from beneath her drags her eyes open, her breath stolen by the sight. Gwyn’s bottom lip is being pulled and worried by her teeth, and those green eyes are dark and heavy with so much obvious need that she nearly feels guilty for taking her time. Nearly. A curling smile works onto Leliana’s face as she redoubles her movements, hips grinding down hard as she rides her Warden’s straining body. Gwyn hasn’t broken their eye contact and it’s only the tightened grip on her hips tells Leliana that she’s playing along. Leliana sighs, her fingers digging into the skin of the Warden’s shoulder as every brush of her clit against the abs below her sends spikes of white hot pleasure. Gwyn’s hands slide up, fingers grazing Leliana’s ribcage as they move to cup her breasts. She groans, the callouses on Gwyn’s hands creating ripples of sensation over her sensitive skin. She gasps at a sudden, but brief pain- fingers twisting and pulling and circling her nipples nearly pushes her over the edge. She bats the Warden’s hands away, replacing them with her own. She knows it’s almost cruel the way she keeps denying Gwyn the same pleasure she herself is taking, but she can’t entirely shake the image of that woman and the way she so easily said “my Warden”- as though she, and not Leliana, had spent countless nights standing guard and talking. Well, her talking, Gwyn listening. The urge to master the woman beneath her was like a fire, blazing and hungry, and the Warden’s whimpers and moans were its fuel. Leaning back slightly, Leliana drags her fingers through the Warden’s folds, already drenched and swollen, and moans. Gywn’s hips buck beneath her, seeking out contact. The bard can’t help but taunt. 

“Why Grey Warden, is that for me?” Leliana’s eyes are gleaming, dark and wicked as she continues to drag her fingers up and down, but never where she knows Gwyn wants them. Gwyn doesn’t answer, but Leliana would swear she could hear as much as feel a growl from beneath her as the Warden’s hands push up and around her thighs. The Orlesian opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a sudden jolting pull on her legs- her knees slide forward and she’s moved up the woman’s torso, surprise putting her off guard and unable to fight back. But she knows better than to try in earnest; she’s seen Gwyn wield daggers and greatswords alike with practiced ease. She knows the game is over and thrills at the prospect of what’s to come. One hand slides between their bodies, coming to rest over her thigh- obviously meant to hold her in place- as the other follows suit until Leliana is trapped in Gwyn’s iron grip. It’s nearly impossible to see the green in Gwyn’s eyes as her pupils are so dilated, and the slightest snarl on her face has Leliana melting. Another short tug and all Leliana can see is the Warden’s eyes drilling into her own. She closes her eyes, waiting.. 

Gwyn’s fingers dig into Leliana’s thighs as she pulls the woman down to her face, tongue snaking out to catch the arousal dripping down in thick cords above her. Leaning up, Gwyn drags her tongue through Leliana’s folds, savoring the way the redhead tastes, pushing in and pulling out of her, only just ghosting over the swollen clit that’s begging for attention. She moans at the taste and her eyes slam shut, basking in the sensations flooding her mind. Leliana whimpers above her as her hips rock, trying to follow the tongue that’s making her see stars and trying hard to force Gwyn to supply the pressure she wants. The Warden’s head swims with the taste of Leliana in her mouth. It’s deep and dark and sweet and all-consuming and Gwyn drags her tongue slowly, methodically up and down between the Bard’s swollen lips. Leliana shudders above her, thighs quivering against Gwyn’s ears as she leans back and braces on the Warden’s thighs- all resolve to tease the woman below her gone with the moan tumbling from her lips. Gwyn’s fingers dig into Leliana’s thighs as she brings her tongue to the woman’s clit- slow, hard strokes have the Bard twitching and bucking against her tongue. The Warden revels in all of it. Every sound, every drop of arousal coating her tongue, every garbled curse and “more” and “faster” that comes from the Bard drives her on towards a feverish and unrelenting pace. Leliana’s panting from above her hails the Orlesian’s rapidly approaching orgasm, nails leaving deep red marks on the Warden’s tensed thighs. Gwyn relaxes her grip and pulls away from between Leliana’s thighs, cum stringing thickly between her mouth and the Bard’s dripping cunt. Gwyn licks her lips, drawing in as much of Leliana as she can while her hands drift. The Bard exhales, haggard and petulant as her long-chased orgasm begins to evaporate.    
“Gwyn, what are you-” The remainder of the question is silenced as the Warden’s left hand digs into the left side of her ass, holding her just a hair’s breadth away from the woman’s mouth. 

“Do you trust me?” Gwyn’s voice is thick and gravely and Leliana can’t help but notice that the woman sounds nearly drunk.  _ Good _ , she thinks. 

“You know I trust you.” She locks eyes with the Warden, curiosity baiting the hot arousal still dripping from between her thighs. Gwyn smiles wickedly before stretching her right arm over Leliana’s thigh and pushing her first finger into her mouth. The pair don’t break the heated eye contact between them as Gwyn sucks on her finger, her tongue stroking up and down its length. Leliana shudders above her as the scene makes her throb; the idea of Gwyn’s fingers buried inside her makes her ache. The Bard groans as the finger slips slowly out of Gwyn’s mouth, slick and bright in the candle light and the Warden’s hand slips back over her thigh and under her body. She can barely husk out a  _ please _ before Gwyn surges forward, her tongue raking hard over her and dipping in, as deeply as she can make it. Leliana bucks hard into the sudden contact and a flood of arousal soaks the Warden’s lips and chin, one hand bracing against the wall and the other tangling in the woman’s hair. 

“Maker,  _ yes _ . Oh,” Leliana gasps hard as Gwyn’s tongue tracks up and moves hard against her clit. Head bowed, Leliana moves with the steady rhythm of the Warden’s tongue, her hips rolling forward and back with every stroke. Gwyn’s right hand moves back between the Bard’s legs- her finger still wet as she drags it through the slickness between her lover’s legs. Gwyn knows what the woman above her wants; she knows how good it would feel to push into the heat of Leliana’s core, she groans with the thought of the Orlesian riding her hand and tongue to orgasm.  _ Maker _ , she wants it. Leliana bears down and spreads her legs wider, anticipation making her chest heave and eyes flutter. The Warden moans against the heated flesh above her and wraps her lips around Leliana’s swollen clit just as the tip of her finger slips past her core and pushes beyond the tight muscle of her ass. The Bard’s eyes fly open, jolted by the sudden shock but also the nearly overwhelming wave of pleasure that blasted through her. 

“Fuck!” She can’t help but tense, every muscle in her lower body contracting against the new sensation. Gwyn sucks hard on her clit forcing Leliana’s eyes to roll back and her hips to push forward. The move shifts the digit in her ass and she moans, her mind trying to make sense of the feeling while her body moves without thought or rhythm and rides the sensation. Gwyn watches the red-head’s face carefully- keen to spot any sign of discomfort or displeasure; she knows the suddenness can be overwhelming and sometimes scary. The first time a lover had pushed a pinky into her ass, Gwyn came hard before she even had time to process exactly what had happened. But Maker, it had felt amazing. Above her Leliana grinds out the Warden’s name, her jaw vacillating between open and slack and tightly closed. Gwyn releases her clit and slowly starts to remove her finger but is stopped by a hand on her forehead. She looks up into the deep blue of Leliana’s eyes, waiting. 

“Keep going.” Gwyn’s lips curl into a predatory smile. The Warden obliges and traces hard circles around the Bard’s clit while her finger pushes back in slowly. Leliana gradually relaxes into the motion, her head dropping back as the straying hand returns to her Warden’s hair. Gwyn moans against the Bard’s clit- the mixture of the thick, hot arousal in her mouth and on her chin and the pulsing tightness around her finger drives her to a new urgency. Leliana chants above her, a chorus of curses and ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’, all repeated in nonsense patterns. Gwyn flicks her tongue hard against Leliana, making the woman jump and twitch, forcing the Warden’s finger in and out of herself. Chest shuddering, the Bard is practically stuttering as her body winds tighter and tighter- white hot pleasure spreading between her legs and down her thighs, making them shake and twitch. “Don’t..” Leliana moans loud and long. “Fuck. Don’t stop.” The hand in Gwyn’s hair twists almost painfully as Leliana’s hips come down hard with every swipe of the Warden’s tongue. A hard suck on her clit and the smallest of added pressure in her ass and  Leliana’s back bows as jolts of pleasure race like lightning from her clit up into her stomach and the Bard cums hard against Gwyn’s tongue, coating the woman’s nose and mouth and chin. Gwyn does her best to follow the haphazard bucking of Leliana’s hips, her tongue working to catch every last drop from the red-head as she pants and shudders above her. Gwyn waits for the twitches to die down before slowly pulling her finger out of the Bard. Leliana whines at the loss but can only slump down onto the Warden’s chest, her breathing ragged and heavy. The Warden’s eyes sparkle with satisfaction as Leliana’s body settles, boneless, on top of her own.    
“Maker… that was..” The Bard lifts her head to look at Gwyn, searching the Warden’s eyes. 

“Long overdue?” Cousland supplies as a response. Leliana can only nod; her limbs feel weak and shaky. 

“Quite.” Leliana chuckles, breathless and bright, the sound chiming through the air and soothing some of the Warden’s unslaked need. Gwyn shifts below her, trying to her best to seek out contact with the pale thigh between her legs. She manages all-too-brief contact and coats the Bard’s thigh in her own arousal. Gwyn shivers at the small spike of pleasure. Leliana takes a steadying breath and pushes herself up onto her hands, thigh planted firmly between Gwyn’s legs. “I believe it is my turn,” Leliana hums, her accent thick and warm. Gwyn nods slowly, spotting the mischief in the Bard’s eyes. “Heroes should be rewarded, should they not?” Leliana drops her head down to the side of Gwyn’s face, her tongue tracing the shell of the Warden’s ear. “I should like to hear you sing, Warden Cousland. And I want everyone to hear it.” 


End file.
